Chapter 51 Making Things right
Caleb
And then there was her.
One girl, hit by a bullet during the frantic chase and struggle. Before she fail in the street a motorbike hit her. Aiden happened to be carelessly riding his bike that night. When he found her, he thought he had run her down and killed her with his bike.
The family covered it up completely. The police were paid. The murder was officially ruled a terrible traffic accident. They made sure to remove all the CCTV footage and focused the entire blame and guilt onto Aiden. Father said it was better that way. It protected the family business, especially the fact that she was a victim of human trafficking.
But I knew the truth. I was responsible for her death, because I started the escape. I watched them fall. I thought I was helping them but ended up killing some of them. Those who were captured faced worst fate.
When father found out what I did, he was mad. He banned me from ever nearing the casino. I still wake up some nights feeling the weight of their deaths. And worse, I let my innocent brother live for years thinking he was a killer, all to protect this sickening operation.
Since then, the guilt has been a crushing weight. I vowed to end the operation, but the fear of repeating that failure kept me silent.
I had been planning this for months. Tonight was my chance to do it right. I had to move slowly. They needed to believe I was one of them. They couldn't know I was planning their complete downfall.
Operation seized after what happened but I didn’t know father would want to resume human trafficking along side the drug business that’s been operating for years.
"The route needs to be absolutely secure," I told Diego, forcing my voice to sound cold and focused on the logistics. "I want the river drop clean. We cannot afford any surprises, especially with the extra valuable shipment."
"It's clean," Diego assured me. "The police patrols won't touch us. Your father paid off the right people weeks ago, through his law contacts."
Paid them off. Yes, the respected Malcolm Lancaster used his law firm as the perfect cover. No one would ever suspect. Not even Jacob or Aiden knew about this side of the business.
I walked toward the vault door, needing to get out of the cold, suffocating air. "I'll take the lead truck tonight. I want to see this done right, Diego. I need to report back to my father that everything went perfectly."
Diego grinned, showing a gold tooth. "Good. You’re learning. Better to be hands-on."
I stepped back into the service corridor. "Final check of the guards at 11 PM. Make sure the trucks are ready."
"Will do, boss," Diego replied, giving me a mock salute.
I walked back out into the loud, messy chaos of the casino floor.
The hours crawled by. At a quarter to twelve, the movement started. The music and shouting from the casino seemed far away, muffled by the soundproofing.
Two men in dark, padded jackets silently carried out heavy boxes of cocaine, loading them into the back of a huge, unmarked semi-truck parked in the loading bay. Then, the worst part began.
The guards roughly lifted the bound girls, moving them one by one out of the vault. They were terrified, stumbling and making those awful, muffled sounds into the gags. I had to stand there, watching, making sure my face was cold and detached, directing the placement of each "package" to play my part.
I was thinking only of the vial. Earlier that evening, I had given my father a powerful, fast-acting sedative mixed into his evening glass of scotch. I told him it was a new vitamin supplement for stress. It was supposed to knock him out cold for at least eight hours. My plan hinged entirely on him being asleep until morning.
Finally, the last girl was loaded. The heavy back door of the trailer slammed shut with a sickening thud. The merchandise was secured.
"Everything accounted for," Diego said, checking his clipboard. "The trucks are gassed. We roll out now."
I pulled on my leather gloves. "I'm driving the lead truck," I stated, my voice firm. "I want to be the one to sign the final manifest at the border. You take the backup sedan, Diego."
He didn't argue. He just nodded, impressed by my sudden ambition.
I climbed up into the massive, dark cab of the semi-truck. This was it. The point of no return. As soon as I pulled onto the street, I would take the route I had memorized, not the border run, but the one leading to the safe house.
I started the engine and It roared to life. I took a deep, shaky breath, releasing the air I felt I had been holding for seven years. I put the truck in gear and reached for the brake release.
Just as my foot touched the pedal, a shadow stepped out of the deepest gloom of the warehouse corner.
He was fully dressed, perfectly composed, and entirely alert. My blood turned to ice in my veins. The sedative, the one that should have knocked him out cold all night, had failed.
"Stop right there, Caleb," my father commanded. His voice was cold, sharp, and cut through the rumbling engine like a knife. There was no anger in his voice, only absolute, terrifying authority.
I stared at him, unable to move. How?
He walked slowly toward the cab door, looking up at me. He looked perfectly healthy, every bit the powerful lawyer who ran this empire from behind a desk.
"Get out of the truck, Caleb," Malcolm ordered, his eyes boring into mine. "And go home."